” Troubled as the future was, it was the unknown future and in its obscurity there was ignorant hope.” Dickens
He was the most handsome boy in my class. In the first ever conversation we had, he clearly established his hatred for the harry potter series. He just didn’t hate it he HATED it. So that was it, there was no chance of us becoming friends ever. I can be friends with a muggle, but a muggle with no respect for magic, no freaking way. But, he was also the most handsome boy in my class and I enjoyed looking at him. If you ask me my love life history I can tell you about my three-year imaginary relationship with the cricketer Parthiv Patel or my two-year long imaginary fling with a gay boy from my neighbourhood. So you can sense the pattern, I fantasise about guys where there is no chance of anything ever happening. My therapist told me it is the fear of abandonment but whatever.
When you keep subtly stalking a person on a daily basis, along with noticing the subtle variations in his stubble growth you also accidently end up noticing that he keeps looking at the most beautiful girl in the class. So there it was, nothing was really going to happen between us, he likes somebody else and hence my guards were down and I gave myself full permission to crank up the fantasies. I couldn’t think of anything coming between the relationship of the most handsome guy and the most beautiful girl in
the world my class. So they could go live their happy life and nothing was going to hurt my rich, poetic fantasy romance.
Our class had only 30 people- among that 30 only 15 of us had the intention of having a life outside classrooms, 11 of us were hanging out together all the time, 5 of us were living in the same dormitory and only two of us were living in the same building. Guess who the two were?
So the most handsome guy in my class became my friend by proximity of homes. And, if you had asked me a month later, handsome would be the last word I would have used to describe him. We started spending weekends together because it was easier to make plans with a person living next door.We went on long walks, drank cheap german beers and watched mindless American comedies. We became buddies, we became as he would always say- Goodfellas.
I started putting kajal and my pretty dresses for our movie marathons. I started baking eggless cakes because he was allergic to eggs. And, I was always waiting by the phone for his replies.
I had hopelessly fallen in love with the muggle.
Being in love with a person who does not love you back is hurtful, being in love with your best friend who does not love you back is torture. It is never having enough with always having a lot.
There is an arrogant ignorant hope that comes with unrequited love, the delusional belief of having a happy ending. Every girl who came in between me and him was only a distraction until he was to realise his true love for me. What was the worse that could happen? even if it wasn’t going to end well, the feeling of being in love was so worth it I told myself a million times. Kafka wrote his best novels after his hear was broken. So worst case scenario- I would be the next Kafka. I was going to be a love martyr.
My stomach started making knots whenever he mentioned other girls. My life became an eternal wait, waiting for him to call, waiting for him to text, waiting for him to come over and waiting for him to turn around and fall in love with me. Every decision to move on after a cancelled plan lasted only until his next sorry text. Every little action of his started holding some sort of meaning to it. Nothing was simple anymore. Every time he called my heart would race with the hope, Is he calling to tell me that he has fallen for me? Finally, could this be it?
There is quote from Susan Sontag that goes something like this, “The amount of crap you are willing to take in the name of love is like the level of messiness of you can tolerate in your room, everyone has a different limit, you don’t know the limit of it beforehand but you will know it when you reach it ”
It took me two years and five months to realise it was never going to happen.
Letting go of him was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
But I did.
I felt free.
In the new found cockiness, I asked myself, ” You cannot simply be friends with the man you are in love with, what the hell were you thinking? ”
Last weekend at my class reunion I saw him after the longest time. He hugged me like only he can and said, “hey, haven’t seen you in a while”. That is all it took for all the feelings I had tried so hard to bury to rise back up to the surface.
My mind started racing, He said hey, haven’t seen you in a while, what does it mean? Finally, could this be it?